Harry Potter and the Labyrinth of the Dark Lord
by NavyQuill
Summary: Harry goes back to Hogwarts for his seventh year searching for the Horcruxes, drawing that little bit closer to Voldemort, and with so many personal issues in between.. HaGi. RoHe.
1. Chapter 1

_**Harry Potter and the Labyrinth of the Dark Lord**_

**Chapter One**

_**Dursley's Demolished **_

Drizzling, pouring rain hailed against the pane of glass, patterns of curved zigzags of water running towards the rim. Temporary flashes of light leapt across the sky, followed miraculously quickly by roaring thunder. Strong breezes swept through the street of Privet Drive, whistling with a foreboding taint, and as the grey-smothered clouds dragged themselves unnaturally fast along their path above, the grinding sound of a car coming to a halt erupted.

Harry peered bitterly from his bedroom, his slightly glazed, green eyes coming to terms with the new maroon jaguar car the Dursley's had recently purchased. Smoke emitted from the exhaust, but stopped as the humming ceased, and three doors swung open to reveal three, painfully familiar figures – Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and Harry's porky cousin, Dudley. He sighed, tearing his distracted gaze from the window, and wandered gradually over to his bedside desk. The lamp was lit, and laid down in the centre, as the lampshade shone, was a rather tampered with looking piece of parchment from a newspaper called the _Prophet_.

Harry slumped himself lazily into the seat, slouched tiredly across the table as he stared down at the letter through the spectacles that hung just off his nose. It had been almost the tenth time he had read the letter through, his heart jogging each and every time he did so. He brushed a finger along the edge of the newspaper; the stains of prior tears still imprinted onto his cheeks, the dark, blue shades that had newly formed beneath his eyes. Harry's skin had turned a hue paler, and with the sullen light shining onto his face, he looked almost ghostly and near enough gaunt.

The start to the summer holidays had begun one-month back, the news of Dumbledore's death everywhere, and the fear of all wizards and witches growing thicker by the minute. Even some Muggles were afraid, especially adding to that, the streets of London had flooded on a humid, dry day, and that countless murders had been detected, without any trace of what might have killed them. Living things everywhere, had taken a new custom to their lives – always checking family members before bed – always the fact special procedures and passwords had to be used to simply walk down the street, or even return to their home in time for tea.

The parchment, of course, was old, worn and out of date by two weeks, yet Harry kept it, as the last and only reminder of Professor Albus Dumbledore. Plenty had already forgotten about the 'famous' man whom had prevented Voldemort killing as restlessly as he was doing now; forgotten the man whom was the Headmaster of Hogwarts for such a long and successful time. And now that no more protection was left, Voldemort and his followers were free to roam the Earth, free of fear – free of any weaknesses that could stop them. Plus, wizard-kind had even forgotten "The Chosen One", and his "Trusted, Loyal Companions".

The mere mention of anything that tied into any of this stuck fear in the hearts of men and women everywhere, and now that the Ministry of Magic and many of the staff at Hogwarts were considering shutting the magical school down, absolutely no protection was being handed out … none at all. Yes, there may have been pamphlets on how to defend one's self against Inferi, there may have been guidelines on how to protect one's family whilst under a Death Eater assault – but none of that mattered if people were still dying everywhere.

Harry started reading through the letter once more, after being interrupted abruptly from his day dream by a loud door slamming shut:

_DAILY PROPHET_

_HEADMASTER MURDERED_

_In the late hours of night at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the "Dark Mark", (a sign that the Death Eaters_ _have murdered someone), appeared above the schools structure, the second the Headmaster had left for a "drink", and said, "he would be back soon". But by the time Professor Albus Dumbledore had returned, Death Eaters had already surrounded the school, and killed many students. The followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came and left, with one of Hogwarts most professional teachers – Professor Severus Snape, whom had, according to a witness, been spying on the Headmaster for sixteen years straight without any detection. _

_The funeral of Professor Albus Dumbledore, ex-Headmaster of Hogwarts, was presented in Hogwarts Grounds on July 25th. Spectators from everywhere came to witness this event, and even the "Chosen One", found some spare time to come around and say his last farewells to his tutor …_

Harry chose to discontinue his read-through, with what a stabbing pain of depression and anger in his throat. He rolled semi-consciously onto his bed, gazing at the plain, white ceiling before him, listening to his own breathing as his chest slowly ascended then descended, and the thump of his heartbeat. Silence conquered the house, which was shortly after broken by the clumping footsteps of the Dursley's walking upstairs. They had just gotten back from their weekly shopping, and had obvious restocked the fridge and cupboards with food.

Harry expected no more than his aunt and uncle to leave him be, walk past his bedroom as if it were not there, but instead, the wooden frame swung open, batting thunderously against the wardrobe to the right of it. A shiver was sent down Harry's spine, as he shot bolt up, his green, shadowy eyes widened to their extremes as they came to focus on Uncle Vernon – his eyes were white as the clouds outside, and an extremely deep cut could be seen across his left cheek. The porky man fell forwards, lifeless, motionless, creating a loud _THUD!_ When he hit the ground.

Blood soaked up to the carpet; streams of it echoing outwards, as to Harry's utter horror, a shriek erupted uncontrollably from the kitchen beneath his room. Alert, he snatched his wand up from beneath his bed, whispering the word _'Lumos!'_ to himself, watching through his round glasses as a light emitted from the tip of his wand. He shuddered a breath outwards, questions buzzing hysterically through his mind – what was happening? How could the Dursley's die? Was he happy or plainly shocked he had witnessed Uncle Vernon fall face first, blood-drenched onto his bedroom floor? Satisfied? He shook the thoughts off, eyes set on the fully open door that awaited him.

Slowly but steadily, Harry crept onto the landing, using his was as a guide in case anything slipped past his eyes. He noticed what looked like a hand, hanging gorily over the edge of the bathtub, and as he drew closer, peering cautiously over the rim of it, he noticed half a corpse, as pale as Uncle Vernon had been moments prior, and as he looked closer, he realised what was happening. A swarm of Death Eaters or Inferi had infested the house, probably even the whole of Privet Drive … but … how?

Harry stepped from the bathroom, his heart beating uncontrollably rapid in his chest, sweat sliding down the sides of his face, the humid heat of fear burning up inside him—

'Of course…' He muttered to himself, 'Fire.' He pressed his thoughts back to when he and Dumbledore had entered the Cave of Lord Voldemort's Horcrux, and the Inferius had attacked them both – his previous Headmaster had used a fire spell to keep a distance between those living dead.

Feeling the hairs on the back of hi neck stand on end at the memory of Dumbledore breaking down as he had drunk the green potion, he closed his eyes, thinking of as many fire-powered spells as he could think of. Harry knew what he had to do – he had to escape the house, even if it meant leaving the Dursley's behind. He did not care, nonetheless, whether their graves were to be their own, hate-filled house on Privet Drive, he did not care. After the hell the three of them had put him through – starving him all Summer, lying to him, giving him as less as a person could receive. Harry hated them.

He paced back into his bedroom, flinging open his trunk, throwing in as many clothes he could he could get his hands on. He managed to stuff his invisibility cloak into his pocket, still clutching tightly his ignited wand. He tossed as many of his Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Potions and Herbology books into his trunk as possible, in hope that somewhere along the lines, they would come in use. Harry could feel himself shaking heavily, after hearing yet another scream of pain coming from the room beneath him, and then the hysterical pounding of a fist against a door as a voice (possibly Dudley's), shouted out: '_HELP! MUM WAKE UP! HELP!' _ He buckled his trunk together, heaving up by the handle, and walked over to Hedwig hastily.

She chirped as the sight of him, flapping her wings about stubbornly as he unlocked the cage and allowed her to rest on his forearm. Harry swiftly scribbled a note down with his quill, saying:

_Ron, I need help – pick me up from Surrey. Quick._

And stuffed in non-caringly into the beak of his pet owl, 'Hedwig', Harry mumbled, his voice faint and croaky, 'take this letter to Ron. And don't stop. Go' He jogged over to the windowsill, forcing open the pane, and watched as Hedwig flew off into the skies. Turning about rapidly, Harry grabbed hold of the trunk, and ran onto the landing, wand clutched warningly in his right hand, and he set off quickly and carelessly down the stairs, He noticed the door that had led to the kitchen, had been knocked down, flung aside, as trails of blood and footprints of muck trailed over the neat carpet that Aunt Petunia would have screamed about if she saw it.

Harry heard another plea of help, echoing off the walls, ringing in his ears painfully. Ignoring this request, he shot out of the door, coming face-to-face with a death-pale face; it's eyes hanging droopily from their sockets. To his utter shock, he recoiled, pointing the wand directly at the Inferius, and exclaimed: '_Incendio!'_ It was a simple, weak spell, but seemed to work perfectly against the walking corpse. It staggered back warningly, screaming as if it were choking, and fell to the ground, the remnants of its dead body burning. Harry marched over the carcass, listening to the faint _crunch_ as the wheels of his trunk slid over it and into the street of Privet Drive itself.

There was a thunderous scream, followed by an echoing screech that had clearly come from an Inferi. Dudley's yells rang through the atmosphere, and soon, after what sounded like a distant splatter of blood, his cries died down, leaving nothing but the deafening squealing of the Inferi. Harry scrunched his eyes up for a moment, attempting to clear his mind of the horrible image of Dudley being slaughtered by a walking corpse, as his guts flung across the desktop of Aunt Petunia's well polished kitchen.

Glimpsing round at Number four, Harry noticed two dead, limping humans crawling in a deadly manor towards him. Eyes widening once more, Harry whispered to himself the same enchantment, watching as the sizzling bodies fell to the ground, their empty bodies, their empty souls screaming as the fire burned them to the marrow. Harry moved on, quickly losing control of his actions. He peered across the street, noting down that the Dursley's house wasn't the only one that had been intruded in.

The rain thrashed down upon his body, drenched in not only water, but also pure, bitter guilt for leaving three helpless Muggles to suffer at the hands of Lord Voldemort. He tightened his grasp around the boarders of his wand; thinking of when he stood by and watched Dumbledore take the hit from Snape … watched him tumble off the edge and down the side of the Astronomy Tower. He could have done something – he could have helped in the Cave too. Harry could have stopped Dumbledore from becoming weakened by the linoleum green potion. After all … the Horcrux they were _meant _to retrieve, was a fake.

He felt his eyes burning, his head buzzing. He peered around, becoming aware of the fact Inferi were now trailing him, slowly, but in numerous amounts. Front doors of many houses had been stripped from their hinges, windows were smashed, and the disgusting stench of blood poured through Harry's nostrils. Decaying, dead followers of Voldemort were on his trail, so unquestionably, Harry sped up his pace, firing _Incendio_ charms forwards at Inferius that were nearing him. He felt as if he was locked up tight in a terrible nightmare, unable to wake up, but it was much, _much_ worse than that.

Harry pulled the heavy load of his trunk steadily behind him, running now as he noticed the corpses began moving quicker in tune to him. He gasped as he felt a fight, bony hand wrap desperately around his ankle, and due to the speed he was travelling at, it caused him to tumble over, his glasses scattering off his nose and tapping against the concrete ground. Harry's stomach met the wet, drenched floor, as he looked back on a zombie, crawling up his leg, prickling his skin as it did so. Jerking his leg furiously, the Inferi let go, as Harry leapt to his feet, picking up his glasses and running with his trunk as before.

He situated his spectacles above his nose, too scared to notice there were several cracks in them. He turned a corner, coming to an abrupt, but terrified halt as he noticed the same dead beings emerging from houses on this street also. He rose his wand, and shouted '_Incendio! Incendio! INCENDIO!'_ watching as groups of burning carcasses fell to their demise, but also steering backwards every few steps as more gathered around him. Harry glanced right through the corner of his glasses, noticing the park, and shot directly for it.

The streetlamps were lit, shining dimly onto the pavement as Harry scurried part it and into the thick, camouflaged area of the park. He threw himself and his trunk behind a well hidden, den-of-a-bush, listening to the chiming squeak of the swings cradle in the wind. He listened for the gradual whistles of furious wind, blowing flightily against his sweating, exhausted face. Harry's heart was beating fast, thought whizzing though his brain like a roller coaster tossing and turning in the air.

Harry turned his head, just in time to mutter the fire-producing charm before an Inferi dropped down aloft him. It scrambled back, burning as the others did. Harry returned his gaze to the sky, watching out for the usual Ford Anglia … and that was when it struck him. Just how on earth were the Weasley's supposed to help him? What if, Harry thought, I'm stuck here fending off Inferi for another hour or so?

"Chosen One", or not, Harry could not defend himself against a million of these beasts. He came to the conclusion, his trunk was holding him behind, so half-heartedly, he stood, and tugged the invisibility cloak from his pocket, covering himself from head to toe. He tottered away, watching confused and completely unaware Inferi limp and crawl their way across the lawns, destroying property of probably now-dead owners. He turned right from the opposite park gate, sprinting with his cloak fluttering at his feat. For a moment, Harry feared the Inferius might see his feet as he retreated, but they did not.

Although the fact the Weasley's no longer had the Ford Anglia, he gawped up above, hoping for a beacon of hope to finally divulge itself. And that was when he saw it, a sway of leaves twisted around each other, swirling through the air against each other like a miniscule tornado, and there, standing the same place Harry had seen nothing but darkness, and the smashed housing of Surrey, there was a hooded character, a wand clutched in their hand. Clad-in-black, with a hood covering the figures face, Harry could only guess it was a Death Eater whom he could see. The darkness blended in with their robes crudely.

He kept the invisibility cloak over his head, nevertheless, not completely startled to throw his defences away. As the black-clad person landed, just metres away from his location, he or she lowered their hood, revealing vivid, short and pink hair, and a petite, female figure, which he instantly recognised as… 'Tonks?' He called out, a quizzical expression about him. The Metamorphmagus merely looked around, cocking a brow to aside.

The storming weather swept a downpour of rain across Tonks as she wandered about, and as she began walking towards the park, he saw her halt in shock. He looked to where she had been peering, as he, too, allowed his expression to blank in surprise. The Inferi were walking in their directions, Harry quickly threw the cloak from over his head, and stuffed it within his trouser pocket safely, once more.

'Tonks!' Harry exclaimed, catching her attention at once. She wasn't as gloomy and as dull as she had been several months' back, the bright, alive characteristics of her head appeared once more, and as she made her way over to Harry, he noticed something gold shining from her hand.

Swiftly hiding the hand in which Harry had seen something, Tonks replied: 'Harry what are you doing? Are you OK?_'_

'I thought I sent the note to the—' Harry began, but receiving a warning look from Tonks, he silenced himself immediately, watching as the Inferi drawled their way towards them. The same screeches vibrated through the air, slicing the silence in half clearly.

'No time— You can Apparate, can't you?' Tonks enquired, slowly backing away from the nearing corpses, grabbing hold of Harry's arm as she did so. After a while, he began to step back also, watching the Inferi carefully. He still held his wand at shoulder-level, ready to cast another spell of fire.

'Well, yes – but … I haven't got my Apparating licence yet,' Harry said.

'Well, I don't think anywhere in the rules it says you can't Apparate from murderous Inferi even if you don't have your licence.' She replied, raising her own wand and pointing it directly for an Inferius far ahead of the rest. '_Flarius!'_ Harry watched as a ring of fire circled he and the Auror, calming himself, as he no longer had to worry about the zombies following him.

'But I'm not that good at Apparating. Couldn't—'

'Grab hold of my arm then…' Harry obeyed, clinging onto Tonks left arm with his wand-less hand. There was a peculiar rushing sensation, as Harry closed his eyes shut, feeling the invisible, tightened tubes coil around his body, ceasing his breathing to function. And just as he felt he was about to throw up, they landed outside a familiar block of housing, with farm animals and Garden Gnomes charging aimlessly about. There was a new scent to the grass, and the rain had stopped its thrash-down.

Harry glanced about, the heat of the sun shining radiantly against his face and spectacles. He remembered this place as the Burrow, the home of the Weasley's. It had been a whiles since he had stepped foot inside their house – but much had been altered. The actual housing had added rooms to it, and had been widened so that what looked like (through the window), the kitchen and dining room were completely seperated. A cobbled path now led to the front porch, where, hanging from above, the doorframe was one of the purple pamphlet-like pieces of paper everyone now owned.

There were fresh tracks in the soul, where, undoubtedly, a new car was parked. Its violet coating and smooth, curved structure gave it a somewhat lively appearance … although, Harry had never known of such a car make – the registration plate was situated on the back window, which was shaped into an equilateral triangle. There were small doors on the sides of the doors, and the roof fell back so far, it almost touched the ground.

Harry and Tonks strolled towards the entrance to the Burrow, and knocked lightly on the door twice. There was a pause, in which Harry used to identify the golden object, but Tonks had her hands tucked into either of her robe pockets. Harry shoved his wand through the gap between his jeans and belt, and looked through the window set in the centre of the door. A darkened, shadowy figure sauntered into view, and a flap shot open to reveal an eye.

'Who is it?' A voice asked, which Harry identified as Mr Weasley's.

'Tonks and Harry – and before you ask …" the Metamorphmagus went on, leaning against the door, and lowering her voice into a whisper. 'The pass is Technelogical Bread-Burning Machine.' Harry raised a brow at this, thinking to himself why on earth the password would be that … but as the door swung open, Mr Weasley revealed himself, in black and gold robes.

Stunned, Harry walked in without a word. He noticed Mrs Weasley through the door to the kitchen, and Ginny and Ron seemed to be playing a game of Wizards Chess, even though the vacant expressions on both faces seemed to show that they were not enjoying themselves at all. The door slammed shut, and the erupting sound of metal and tin rustled. Harry took a seat at the dining table, as Tonks wandered over to Mr Weasley to, (what sounded like it), fill him in on what had happened.

Immediately, he was greeted with dreamily voices, which he thought for a second, had come from Luna Lovegood, but as he looked up, he saw Ginny and Ron Weasley approaching him, their bright, ginger hair glinting in the suns rays from the panes of glass. Harry remained silent, however, thinking of the attackers – thinking of the lifeless face of Uncle Vernon as his door swung open. Thinking of Petunia and Dudley trapped somewhere downstairs, as his cousin cried out for help. He couldn't come to terms with what had happened – t had all come and passed so swiftly.

His eyes were glazed over, his features pale and his ankle, he betted, was smothered in rotting blood from when the Inferius had seized it. His fingers were numbed, as were his toes and nose from the frosty, English rain. But it had been much more than just mere rain and frostiness – the Inferius had caused it … their lingering bodies thwarting the neighbourhood Harry had so easily escaped from. Yet, for some strange reason, the carcases had not seemed very intent on killing Harry – instead, the living corpses of pale, rotting humans, seemed to be more preoccupied with attacking the citizens of Surrey.

He sighed. Looking up at Ginny and Ron, quickly whispering: 'Is Hermione here?' They both nodded identically. 'Where is she? I need to tell you guys something …'

'Was it about the let—' Ginny started, but Harry put a finger over his lips and gave a warning look as Tonks had given him, and as he had done before, Ginny fell silent.

'Let's find Hermione.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_**The Wedding**_

Harry followed Ron and Ginny up the spiral staircase of the Burrow, his mind still focused immensely on the death of the Dursley's. When they turned into a room, he noticed Hermione sitting, stroking Crookshanks ginger, fluffy coat, and just perched on the windowsill, was his own, snowy white owl – Hedwig. The three ambled into the room, slamming the door shut behind them, and joined Hermione on the ground.

'Oh, hello Harry,' Hermione begun, as her hairball of a pet crouched and huddled into her stomach. 'What happened at the Dursley's? You sent this letter—'

'Yeah,' muttered Ron, running a hand through his fiery-red hair. 'What did those Muggles do this time? Barricade your bedroom door up?' he continued, with just a hint of a snicker forming over his face. Harry bowed his head, thinking of a way to explain, but as he glanced from Ginny, to Ron, to Hermione, he knew he'd have to tell them. What kind of trouble would he get into for using spells outside of Hogwarts?

'Well?' Ginny ushered him on.

Harry sighed, and then replied: 'They're dead.' He watched as a hand flew over his bushy-haired friends' mouth, then as Ginny's eyes widened. Ron, on the other hand, apparently didn't seem fully comprehending of the sentence Harry had told them. Harry had no idea which way to take it … he couldn't be upset because he _hated_ his aunt, uncle and cousin … but he couldn't be glad for their death — that would be sinking to Lord Voldemort's twisted level.

'C'mon, Harry,' Ron said, glancing around for support on the fact Harry was lying, or being sarcastic in some sick way. 'We know you hate them, but you don't have to pretend they're dead. Though you'd be better off, those damned muggle, I say, should burn in—'

'They are dead! Really!' Harry retorted, pushing his round, shattered spectacles up his nose a notch. 'These Inferi bombarded Privet Drive – thousands of them – they got into the Dursley's home and killed them. I managed to escape, but left my trunk behind.' He reached for his wand at his belt, and wrenched it out, pointed it directly between his eyes and muttered quietly: '_Reparo.'_

'Inferi?' Repeated Hermione, a quizzical expression formed over her face. There was a short, yet eerie silence, which the four used to gather the information. 'But – in broad daylight?'

'It was pouring it down. There was no light … hardly,' Harry answered, relieving his friend of confusion. 'Anyway … I think there's a pattern here.'

'What?' Ginny spoke, for the first time since he arrived at the Burrow.

Harry took a deep breath, shuddering off the dripping water aloft his raven-black hair, then spoke: 'First my parents, then Sirius, then Dumbledore now the Dursley's. I know they weren't much of protection, but I was said to be completely safe there. All my protection has been killed off – all of it, and all that's left is me.' Harry paused, drinking in a sympathetic look from Hermione, and faces from Ginny and Ron that said '_oh-come-off-it-Harry!'_

Harry glanced about the small, triangular room they were situated in. A miniature bed was placed down, held securely against the stained-looking, yellow right wall, and aloft the sullen, damp floorboards. A small, circular window peered out, Victorian patterns fashioned around its boarders. There was not much special about the room, and the house especially looked much more decent on the outside than the inside. Quickly realising he had had his wand out; Harry tucked it back into the gap between his jeans and belt.

The tension was increasing with every uncanny second as the four remained quiet. Then, Harry decided to speak once more. 'What if I don't kill Voldemort? What if Voldemort kills me?' Harry ignored the interrupting shudder from Ron. 'There won't be another Boy Who Lived episode will there? If Hogwarts doesn't open, then what? The whole world lives in fear until someone magically defeats him?' Harry pondered angrily.

'Harry, what are you talking about?' Ginny murmured devastated, 'You're talking like it's already over, for gods' sake.' Harry looked up, unconvinced. If Dumbledore had fallen that _easily_ to one of Voldemort's mere followers, how was a seventeen-year-old boy going to defeat the strongest, Darkest Wizard alive? The odds were very slim, though thinking of his friends and families' death only brought anger, and a bitter sense to want to kill their murderers quicker.

Harry stood, pacing restlessly around the three, and not before long, leant discreetly against the pane of glass. The humid weather of August was batting menacingly through the transparent window, hitting Harry's back with full force, though he chose to remain there, ignoring the slight discomfort.

'Anyway, when's Bill's and Fleur's wedding?' Harry enquired, hastily changing the subject before anyone else, especially Ginny, could give him a piece of their minds. Harry thought he noticed a glint of jealousy in Ron's face, but after he blinked it seemed to disappear. 'Last term they said they were going to still go ahead with it – they're sticking to that aren't they?'

'Yeah,' answered Ron distastefully, standing to face Harry. 'They're getting married today.'

'_Today? _Wow … but – if they were getting married today, why didn't you pick me up from the Dursley's yesterday – or better, last _week?_' Harry enquired, now suddenly realising that the experience at Privet Drive could have clearly been avoided.

There was another moment of quietness, before Hermione miraculously broke it. 'We were going to bring you to the Burrow today, so that …'

'So that we could surprise you,' Ron continued hurriedly. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but interjecting before he could speak, Ron said: 'C'mon, let's go to the field in the back. I'll show you the area where they're holding the wedding.' And yet again, before Harry could say any word of disagreement, his ginger haired friend, Hermione and Ginny were already standing up straight, and scampering out onto the landing.

Harry followed on, retreating down the staircase, past a talkative Mr and Mrs Weasley and Tonks, down the twisted, packed hallway and out into the gleaming, radiant sunshine as he had done just minutes prior. It had been a very long while since he had laid eyes on the Weasley's field of a back garden – its luscious coating of grass covering for as far as Harry could see.

The Weasley's had clearly worked on their yard additionally, with an extraordinarily far-distant vegetable path, which circled a large amount of the rural area, and at the far-end, stood a fluorescent white coloured balcony – flowers were attached easily to the upper tier, and on the lower, steps were placed down. Two long lines of parallel, scarlet material led up to the balcony, and on either side of them, wooden, dirty stools had been situated to face the veranda. Four beautiful, and positively tall plants that Harry had learned about in Herbology were planted on either side of the porch-like-building, and written in a banner, were the words '_Fleur and Bill Weasley'_.

For a family whom hated Delacour, they sure had gone through a lot to produce a spectacular wedding for her. There were benches surrounding the wedding area, and sat on them, were wizards and witches, of whom Harry had never seen or even heard of before – yet he guessed they were from Fleur's side of the family, for each of them shared something in resemblance to her. Harry scanned the gardens, and soon, found Lupin, speaking almost … light-hearted to Charlie Weasley. Farther along, he noticed Hagrid and Gwarp standing – probably because they could break the fragile chairs if they sat on one.

There were some people, whom all had badges stuck firmly to their white suits, and magenta ties – they had no indication of what side of the family they came from at all, or that they were even related to anyone in the Burrow. Mad-Eye Moody was sat rather grumpily in clothes so neat, tidy and suitable, his gruff, scarred face clashed terribly, and finally, looking just past him, Harry noticed Bill speaking to what looked like a priest in a long, white and holy shawl and a dress-like gown.

Harry followed Ron, Hermione and Ginny towards one of the benches near Lupin and Charlie, and took a seat. As he sat down, he remembered something he needed asking, so turning to his friends he spoke. 'Hey, when Tonks Apparated to Privet Drive, I noticed she was holding something gold. It could be like that necklace Katie had last year – you know, the one that put her in St Mungo's for months?'

Harry paused, drinking in the quizzical expressions from Hermione, Ginny and Ron. They chose not to reply.

He continued: 'it could be something from the Dark Arts! The same thing could happen to Tonks. Oh yeah – and Dumbledore had a ring last year that burned his hand!' Harry expected his friends to nod in approval, and start chattering about what Voldemort's next course of action would be, and how they were going to stop it. Instead, rather shockingly, he received a round of oblivious laughter.

Harry snarled as he watched them snigger between themselves, and then he looked back at the Burrow.

Cutting Hermione and Ron and Ginny free of their amusement, Harry exclaimed: 'It isn't funny!'

'Oh, Harry, Harry, Harry,' Ginny said, calming her laughing quickly, 'you need to chill – are you really that cautious?'

'What do you mean? I told you!' Harry muttered in confusion, 'it could burn her hand like Dumbledore's, what's so funny about that? I thought you'd have seen it my way – but even after Dumbledore's death, me being right about Malfoy the whole time, and Death Eaters infiltrating Hogwarts, you still don't believe me?' He could think of what it was… 'Tonks tried to hide the gold thing from me twice – it has to be something…'

Hermione sighed, and then spoke up, 'Harry, it was a ring,' Harry was on the verge of interrupting her, but she nattered on. 'An engagement ring.'

Harry felt his face light up a shade of red, watching as Ginny let a quiet giggle out. Somewhere between the sensation of embarrassment and bewilderment he stared, then said: 'Engaged? Engaged to whom?'

Ron was now wearing his '_stupid-isn't-it?'_ feature as he answered: 'Lupin.'

'_Lupin?'_ Harry glanced from Ron to Remus Lupin, watching for his hand, and there, was the same gold ring that Tonks wore. Slightly confused, yet comprehensive of this news, Harry continued: 'But isn't it a little … early?'

Ron shrugged, followed by Ginny rolling her eyes. Hermione answered: 'didn't you hear that argument in the Hospital Wing last term? They've obviously been considering it for a long time, haven't they?'

Harry cast his mind back, to the time at the end of last year, when everyone had been attending to Bill's werewolf incident. Fleur had been so wrapped up in her little, dramatic speech about still loving a werewolf, no one expected Tonks's outburst about her admiration towards Lupin. Harry turned his focus to Ginny – how he wished he could still continue their relationship, how luxurious and comforting it had been the previous term, sitting by her side in the grounds, huddling up to her. Ginny had given him the happiness he had been yearning, _craving_ for his whole life … but it couldn't continue.

Voldemort would surely, after finding out Harry and Dumbledore had discovered his very weakness, he would surely be after anyone, to blackmail Harry into quitting the hunt for the Horcurxes. When he gazed at the beautifully radiant hair, and warming face of Ginny, he simply felt a horrible sensation within – not the sensation he had felt before going out with her – but one that said '_she's long gone, you can't be with her again. Forget it.'_ But sometimes, Harry found himself battling with himself inside his head.

_Stop thinking about her._

But just a few months wouldn't hurt.

_You said you broke up with her for her own safety!_

Yes, but what about my needs?

_You need Ginny to be safe!_

It was murder roll playing arguments over and over, and no Harry was _so_ close to hugging her, even kissing her, he knew he couldn't – those days were over. A weak breeze brushed against the four, their clothes swaying somewhat, and almost as if the weather were corresponding with his thoughts, the clouds leapt before the sun, and raindrops, so lightly, almost one rain drop every half a minute, fell.

'Oh great!' Ron exclaimed, holding the hood of his jumper over his long, tangled hair. 'Raining – it's just typical isn't it?'

'We're still doing the wedding outside aren't we?' Ginny enquired, looking from Hermione to Harry to Ron. 'There's no space inside!'

'Well, we're going to have to aren't we? It's just everyone will get a little wet.' Hermione answered.

'A little wet? More like _drenched!_' Ron's voice was grump and angry for some peculiar reason. Harry, Ginny and Hermione copied Ron in holding hoods and jumpers, or even paper over their head, as the rainfall began to strengthen.

There was a hysterical shriek, as Mrs Weasley and Fleur ran inside the field, accompanied by Mr Weasley, Tonks and a bundle of Ministry Officers and Aurors. 'We'll have to do the wedding now!' Mrs Weasley announced, clapping loudly as Bill, Fleur and the priest retreated to the Alter, and the onlookers took their places in the white, gardening chairs. Mrs Weasley ran into the centre isle, flicking her wand into the air and muttered a spell under her breath. An invisible roof covered the entire area, free of rain.

Harry followed his friends to the back of the set of chairs, and took a seat, lifting his head so that he could just see over the Auror in front of him. There was a round of applause as a piano appeared just to the left of the balcony, and humming gracefully from the musical device, came a rhythmical tune, which sounded extremely familiar to the song played in Muggle Weddings.

That was when Fleur probably realised that she should be standing at the back of the isle, walking down gradually, instead of standing firmly in front of Bill at the Alter. There were a few sniggers from the younger audiences, but they died down hastily as the Married couple looked around hopelessly. The music ceased, finishing on a rather long, sharp note, and that was when the priest held his hands in the air, just above the heads of the couple, then lifted a thick, tattered, white book from the alter.

He began muttering groggily, yet somehow cheerfully in a language Harry could not understand – probably Latin, like churches would speak in many years ago for Muggles. At this point, Harry had already grown bored of listening tirelessly to the gaunt voice muttering Latin or whatever language he was speaking. He turned to Ginny, Hermione and Ron.

'What language is this?' Harry asked, turning to Hermione for a guaranteed, twenty-five paged long explanation.

'It doesn't have a name, or I don't think it does. Even so, it is similar to Ancient Egyptian. This language was spoken between wizards and witches over one _thousand_ years prior to now.' Hermione explained, lowering his voice to a whisper. 'It so happens, that most funerals and weddings are spoken in this language – it's tradition … I guess Fleur requested it because the French were the ones who requested the language stayed. It doesn't matter … anyone here who has already been to a wedding or funeral and listened, will already know what the priest is saying. I doubt you Ron and Ginny would though – or any of the other younger people here.'

Harry, Ron and Ginny were gob smacked at the information Hermione had just pulled out randomly from thin air. They watched as the bushy haired girl returned her gaze to the front, where Fleur and Bill were now grinning uncontrollably at each other, and the witnesses were beginning to laugh a little between themselves. Harry guessed the priest had cracked a joke in the modified Ancient Egyptian language he was speaking. Quizzical, he returned his focus to Hermione again.

Tapping her shoulder, he muttered quietly: 'Can you speak it?' Still, expecting another long, descriptive explanation, he listened intently.

Hermione took a great breath of nervousness, now grinning as frenziedly as the couple before them. She spoke. 'Well – I can speak a little of it … most of it is hard to pronounce, especially most of what this guy is saying. But I can understand most of what he's saying. The teachers at Hogwarts would most probably have been taught this – and it would have surprised me if Dumbledore had known it either … that so to say, I couldn't Imagine anyone except people whom dedicate their whole life to this work, knows every word and letter in the alphabet.'

Stuck somewhere in confusion and awe of how much Hermione had learned behind his back, Harry returned his look back to the front again. Thirty minutes passed very slowly and boringly, during which time, the rings had been placed onto Bill's and Fleur's ring-fingers, and then followed shortly, was another speech, which Hermione explained was about the future for the two of them.

Harry could see tears spilling from Hermione's eyes, and turning to his friends, Ron merely rolled his eyes and Ginny smiled. They guessed the wedding was nearing to an end, and as it was, Ginny tugged on his jumper. Harry peered down, watching her redhead rest comfortably against him.

His insides tickled, squirming horribly yet satisfied as Harry spoke in a hushed voice. 'Ginny, you know, if we get by all this safe, could me and you…' he paused, glancing up at the front so he could get a good look at whether the wedding had finished yet. 'Could you and me start over? You know … the relationship?'

Ginny merely snuggled up further, remaining quiet with her arms pressed around Harry's back. He followed suit, resting his right arm against her shoulder, and the two of them stared up at the wedding front. Fleur and Bill were leaning in towards each other, and pecked each other lightly on the lips. There was an excitingly thunderous, lifting cheer and round of applause, as strange white objects that looked oddly like tissues flew into the air.

Everything seemed perfect – the moment – the cheering. Harry turned to Ginny once again: 'So, what do you say?'

'I say, wait and see.'

'Hmph. Just wait until—'

_BANG!_

Harry shot bolt up to his feet, turning his head quizzically yet alertly as an amber light fired just past him, barely scraping his cheek, and ending in a pounding loud crash as it hit the balcony. Screams of horror flew through the air, Harry's ears ringing violently as he felt tugs of his jumper. The Alter burst apart before his eyes, and Fleur, Bill and the priest, undoubtedly were thrown backwards onto the ground.

Everyone stood at this point, either glancing about to suspect the attacker, or attempting to aid the three whom had been targeted. Harry turned to face the back of the wedding isle, catching a glimpse of a rather, somewhat, smirking Tonks, but as he blinked, that feature disappeared, and was replaced oddly with a look of shock. There was a loud, fussy commotion, as people tried in their efforts to retreat from their seats and help Fleur and Bill.

The Alter was in shreds, and suddenly, a voice erupted from behind them: 'I'm _so_ sorry!' Everyone turned, their eyes glaring at the person whose voice exclaimed the apology. Harry turned once more; almost each and every seat had been knocked over into the muddy ground, as their owners had abandoned their seats. 'I swear – I didn't mean – my wand – I.' Tonks was speaking, and already Ministry officers and Aurors were surrounding her, pointing accusing fingers at her.

'What just happened?' Hermione asked, standing beside Ron so she could observe the situation clearly. Harry walked hastily up to the circle of Ministry workers, followed shortly by Ron, Ginny and Hermione, whom all seemed to be in shock from the sudden change of atmosphere about the Burrow.

'Did Tonks do that?' Ginny asked, prodding at Harry. He didn't answer; he watched as a defending Lupin rushed into the argument, trailed swiftly by Mr and Mrs Weasley, Mad-eye, and many other adults as Bill and Fleur cleaned themselves down. There seemed to be no damage, except for an open wound on Bill's face, which had already been there from the werewolf attack prior term.

Shouting and cussing was being thrown about recklessly, Tonks stuck pin-point in the centre of it all. Harry turned his gaze to a rather flustered Hermione, then whispered: 'Was that spell…?' Harry paused; it had all happened so quickly – the red light firing just past his face … so close … he could feel an aftershock of pain from the spell in his jaw – but was so mild, he couldn't care less. 'Hermione – was that the _Crucio_ curse?'

Hermione didn't reply instantly, her gawping was too intent on the group of huddled accusing and cursing. The shouting didn't die down – it lasted for almost an hour. Fleur and Bill had been sent into the Burrow to clear up and plan what to do next, and Harry, Hermione, the Weasley's and suspect had been detained in their rooms – or in Tonks's case, isolated in the dining room. Harry, peering out of the window and down onto the back garden, could still see and hear the muttering, but only in a hushed, muffled volume.

The sun was melting behind the horizon after another hour or so, and the raining had stopped completely, leaving a drowned set of arguing wizards and witches to discuss the recent set of events. Harry and Ron shared a room in the upper attic, surrounded gloomily by old, wooden sculptures, footlockers, collectables and a rather smashed-looking window. Redness shone vibrantly into the room, beating down in one, square-shaped location, but lit the room up a notch, brightening the contract of the once depressing debris.

Harry looked towards his redheaded, freckled friend, thinking his words through carefully, and then spoke. 'Ron, did you see anything at the Wedding?'

'Yes … I saw Fleur and Bill … and the Alter … and the priest. For god's sake, I couldn't understand that fool could—' Harry shot him a livid look that said '_don't-play-fool-with-me'_. Ron sighed, and then continued. 'No … it happened too quickly. I only realised what had happened when someone screamed, because I wasn't looking at the front – I was talking with Hermione.' Ron froze, quickly adding: 'did you?'

'A bit,' Harry responded, grasping Ron's attention quite quickly. 'The spell scraped right past my face … hit the Alter. Tonks – I just dunno why she could have used the Crucio curse on a married couple.' Harry closed his eyes, thinking, 'she could have unintentionally done it. I mean, you know how clumsy she is.'

'Yes, but why on earth would she 'unintentionally' cast the Crucio curse? That is what the spell was – right?'

'I think so … it was a red light. That's Crucio.' Harry pondered aloud. 'But there are other red-lighted spells. It's just, when it skimmed my cheek, I could feel pain. Maybe she's under the Imperius Curse?'

'Doubt it. She's been acting _pretty_ normal all day. She's back to her usual self – she was even hugging Lupin before. I doubt a Death Eater or whatever would use the Imperius Curse to hug Tonks's boyfriend.' Ron muttered, quickly adding with a smile: 'Unless they were desperate.'

'True … well, I just don't know. Anyway, I was planning on escaping the Burrow tomorrow – going to Godric's Hollow … wherever it is. Want to come?'

'Sure. Just remember to tell Hermione and Ginny and take your damned invisibility cloak this time.' Ron said.

'When have I ever left my invisibility cloak behind?'


End file.
